


Never know till the end

by Halvwyn



Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [3]
Category: Life of the Party D&D (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pining, Self-Sacrifice, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why do I keeping hurting these characters, badly-timed humor, but it turned into this, i meant to write fluff, just pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halvwyn/pseuds/Halvwyn
Summary: Soulmates.One’s other half, a person who was meant for you to walk with you for as long as you both were on the same plane, and in some notable cases, stayed with each other even after death divided them. It was a blessing that everyone was born with a soul mark, a way to know that you’d found that person. It was a curse that the words that made up one’s mark were the last words you’d hear that person say.
Relationships: Cassian/Renard (Life of the Party)
Series: Life of the Party Ficlets and Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681585
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	Never know till the end

**Author's Note:**

> I'm *so* sorry to everyone who reads this. I wanted to do a soulmate AU, and then this trope popped into my head and wouldn't let me write till I got it down.

Soulmates. One’s other half, a person who was meant to walk with you for as long as you both were on the same plane, and in some notable cases, stayed with each other even after death divided them. It was a blessing that everyone was born with a soul mark, a way to know that you’d found that person. It was a curse that the words that made up one’s mark were the last words you’d hear that person say.

Cassian Thiarin was 200 years old, and was a firm believer in living life as if he didn’t have the mark at all. He saw no reason in searching for someone who he would only truly find when he lost them, after all. That was the exact why he firmly ignored that stubborn feeling he felt as he and Vanden danced around whatever there was between them.

He was perfectly content, he told himself, with stolen kisses during shared watches, or creeping down the hallways of inns to steal time together in towns. He  _ definitely  _ felt no deep-rooted (not so dissimilar to the weeds he’d seen so often on the road) need to pull the taller man closer after their rendez-vous, that his bed  _ never _ felt strangely empty after Vanden left to return to his own room.

There was  _ nothing  _ more to it, he told himself, until there was.

* * *

The battle had been long fought. The party had hired on to clean out a small mercenary company outside Shadebourne. Fewer than fifteen men were meant to be there. Instead, they were barely halfway through the small keep, beaten and bloodied until they were forced to rest, and they must have fought off nearly double the number of men there were meant to be.

Astra was humming softly as he tended to Elyse’s shoulder, a bloodied crossbow bolt sitting beside them as the sorcerer attempted to brush off her friend’s concern. Sariel was quiet even for herself, white hair stained red from several particularly vicious attacks with her primal savagery, and Boblem sat next to her, fiddling with his knapsack as he waited on the rest of the party.

After what could have been a handful of minutes or nearly half an hour, Vanden forced himself upright, wincing as a cracked rib panged painfully at his side. “I’m going to go on ahead,” he announced, voice low but startling the attention of the party as if he had screamed the words. Before arguments could be more than began, he continued, “We’re sitting ducks here, and we all know it. The lower floors are secure, and Cassian has both of his blades if someone  _ does  _ come up. But we need to know what’s going on up above if we have any hope of getting out of here without being pursued.”

“Vanden, that’s suicide!” Elyse hissed, eyes still flickering sparks of blue from her constant use of her arcane focus, “You’re barely better off than the rest of us.”

“I wasn’t asking, Elyse.” Sighing slightly, Vanden shifted on his feet, taking a mental inventory of his aches and pains before turning to leave the group as another round of protests sprouted up behind him.

It was Cassian who reached out to catch his wrist, pulling Vanden into his personal space even as the taller man stiffened at the unexpected touch. “Elyse is right, Vanden,” he murmured, locking eyes with Vanden as he spoke, mere inches between them, “This has to be the  _ stupidest  _ idea I’ve heard from you yet, and that is not a title easily won.”

Vanden’s voice was little more than a whisper when he answered, “What other option is there, Cassian? Elyse is still bleeding out, everyone else is exhausted beyond what a few moments of rest could possibly solve. We  _ need  _ to know what is left of the forces here so we can retreat, re-evaluate, and plan for a later attack.” 

Cassian frowned, Vanden’s words ringing true despite his desire to argue, “Fine. You aren’t to pick any fights. Stay hidden, see what you can, and come back so we can make a  _ safe  _ retreat,” he ordered firmly.

Vanden seemed to hesitate a moment, something similar to recognition flickering in his gaze, before he huffed a half-laugh and pressed a kiss to Cassian’s forehead, startling the man into releasing his wrist long enough to step away. Before Cassian had the chance to fully process it, Vanden was striding towards the stairs to the next level, casting a glance back to the party. “Be careful, Cassian. If you keep that up, people will start to think you care.”

Cassian’s mind blanked yet again as the words reached his ears, but his mind refused to process them. By the time the realization fully sank in, Vanden had disappeared up the dark stairway. He wasn’t sure when his knees hit the ground, nor how long it took for Astra to desperately cast calm emotions. The spell took affect, dousing Cassian in a wave of calm, Taking a steadying breath, he stood, eyes hardened.

“We need to make the retreat. Vanden isn’t coming back.”


End file.
